


έναν απλούστερο χρόνο

by cherry_shot



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Bunny Lives, Domestic Bliss, Fellatio, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Out of Character Content, Spit Roasting, Threesome - M/M/M, post book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_shot/pseuds/cherry_shot
Summary: It’s been hard enough for Richard to acclimate to living halfway across the country, thrust into the hierarchy for Greek and Roman civilization still seen through the cracked walls of Hampden. Even more so in what his continued study of Greek has awakened within him, a raw primal desire to push past the borders of modern decent and into the corruptions of Dionysus. Bronze sweat covered skin has been replaced with Henry’s cool touch and calculating eyes. It’s one in the same, even if it’s a different time.





	έναν απλούστερο χρόνο

It wasn’t often there was a day that Richard truly had to himself anymore. It wasn’t that he really missed the hours he used to spend with Judy doing acid in her Chevrolet, driving around in a drugged haze before going back to his sullen dorm to sleep, read, or sit. No, not even Henry was so much a hermit to enjoy a schedule as tedious as that. 

No, he didn’t miss that at all, but as he left their last class of the day, Henry already walking alongside side him, a silent presence just inches away from his side, Richard simply noticed the almost constant state of community he had thrust upon himself over the past few months. When it was not Henry, when it almost always was, then Richard would find himself wrapped up in whatever dilema Francais has discovered that day. Driving across town to a different optometrist or psychiatrist than last week, or pouring over different medical books in attempt to coax him out of a frenzy after another bout of sneezing or coughing overtook him. But it wasn’t always hypochondriac nonsense, often Francais dragged him along to elaborate dinners or theatre performances that no one else would think of enjoying. He refused any payment on Richards part, claiming that if he was to drag him out day after day than it was only right to pay for the both of them. Normally, the idea of being the charity case for someone else would send Richard into a frenzy but Francais never treated him any different. He acted like money was no more than a wad of spare napkins he had shoved in his coat, an after thought on the way out the door, and it was such a different outlook than Richard had ever seen before, that somehow he allowed himself to be swept away into the glitz and glam of prosperity. 

And occasionally, when Francis couldn’t be bothered to pull himself out of his velvet bathrobe and into the limelight, Richard would spend evenings with the twins. Bent over endless games of gin rummy, cups of lukewarm tea and crackers it was the closest place that Richard felt like home, when he was seated next to Camilla’s sweet laughter and Charles’ fraternal closeness. 

Even rarer, was time Richard spent with Bunny. Occasionally they’d run into each other at the bar by the common rooms, exchanging casual pleasantries that bordered on sinlessness until Bunny was invariably called away by Marian or his own distrust of the way Henry glanced at Richard from overtop his books. 

But it was Henry with whom he spent the majority of his hours. 

They were a domestic pair, through and through. 

And that was alright with Richard

 

Richard glanced up at Henry for the fourth time in the past hour, allowing him to watch the other man’s hands as they skimmed down the page of the unknown book he was reading, his own fingers abandoning his game of solitaire as they tapped on the table. 

“Are you losing?” Henry asked, not looking up from his book as Richard hid his slight embarrassment at being caught staring behind a sip of the cold coffee he had been nursing for the past hour. Looking up from his book, Henry smiled just slightly as Richard caught his eye yet again. 

They’d played this game quite a lot. 

“What’re you reading?” Richard tossed the remaining cards in his hand down on the table and leaned back on the couch, after deciding the distraction of holding his mug wasn’t worth the chilled slug of what was once poorly made coffee. 

“Sappho.” 

“Really?” Richard asked, surprised at Henry’s choice, of media for the evening. More often than not the answer he received upon asking this question was either some Roman obscurity, either an author or topic Richard could barely recall a fact or two about much less had ever consumed himself, or it was a book in a language unbeknownst to him, only allowing him entry into a hidden culture by his enjoyment of hearing foreign words pass through Henry’s lips. It had been an Old World passage last time, a history of some noble in Kyrgyzstan and Richard had hardly paid attention as Henry droned on for a quarter of an hour on their conquests but had, instead, run the names of those past kings across his own mind as Henry’s guttural pronunciation had sent shivers down his spine. 

He’d liked the way he growled out Атаке Тынай бий уулу but Richard was still unsure exactly what the tie between him and Catherine the Great was. 

“Yes, Francis has been horribly obsessed with Byron as of late, and as much as it annoys me to listen to him drone on about those Romantics it did remind me about Julien’s lecture about Sappho during our freshman year,” He paused, looking up to see Richard bent forward where he sat, fervently listening, smiled and continued, “Before you joined us mind you, but it was a wonderful lecture.” 

“Will you read some to me?” Richard asked. He’d, of course, read a bit of Sappho and the other early poets before, but as of now all he’d ever heard Henry speak in Greek was Homeric histories or other types of prose. Never anything so directly related to femininity and love. 

And oh how Richard wanted to. 

“If you’d like,” Henry said but Richard could hear his own enjoyment tucked away behind those words, getting up to cross over the moon and sets himself on the couch next to Richard. 

His poised and tight posture a clever jab to Richard’s slouched shoulders but the latter paid him no mind as he responded, “I would.” 

With that Henry began. 

“Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα  
καὶ Πληιάδες· μέσαι δὲ  
νύκτες, παρὰ δ᾽ ἔρχετ᾽ ὤρα·  
ἔγω δὲ μόνα καθεύδω.” 

Richard leaned back again and closed his eyes, letting Henry’s low lull of his spoken Greek wash over him, flexing his fingers and feet as he listened to him. 

“An interesting choice,” Richard said, looking over at Henry who had closed the book, still holding it professionally in one hand but scowling slightly as he read where Richard was going with his words, “And do you still feel παραμένεις μόνος σου?” 

“μόνο αν φύγετε.” He closed the book, putting it down next to Richard’s drink on the coffee table and let his now free hand come to rest on Richard’s thigh, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thing fabric of his lounge pants. Richard smiled softly at the confession such a short collection of ancient words could bring forth. Richard moved to let his own hand rest atop Henry’s their fingers intertwining just enough that Richard could feel the rough comfort of Henry’s grip on him. When he looked up from their hands, Henry was a breath away from him, and Richard, without thinking, moved forward to kiss him. 

Kissing Henry was always a exploration of the unknown, besides the fact that he had kissed him for the first time months ago and the left side of Henry’s bed had been, in his own words, ‘Richard’s for the past two. Nevertheless, each time he felt his lips meet the other man’s, the surprising wartm of Henry’s breath and skin, sent small shocks of electric excitement through him. 

It was outside both of their the normal confines of what their perceived personalities were and maybe that's what excited Richard so much each time they were intimate. This was a side of Henry and of himself that was private, unknown to even their circle of fellow quote on quote Greeks. This intimacy was his, Henry’s, and the gods. 

Richard removed his hand from Henry’s grasp, moving it to rest on the sharp cut of Henry’s face, feeling the roughness of his stubble and the seriousness of his jaw as he continued kissing him. Henry’s hand, after a moment, gripped Richard’s pant leg tighter, pulling him closer until their chests were pressed together, and even more until Richard was halfway on Henry’s lap. 

“Henry.” Richard breathed out, voice hitching up another octave as he ground down onto Henry’s thigh, the immovable statue below him rocking in time alongside him, his granite hands holding tight to Richards hips. If he were anyone else, Richard might have found Henry’s stoicism to be aggravating, especially at times like this, but instead he found it invigorating. The art of subtlety spurred him on more than anything, and nothing made the deep pit of his stomach burn brighter than coaxing a quiet gasp and movement from Henry’s otherwise solid form. 

Lost in thought, Richard felt a cold hand slip up under his shirt and, in a moment, he was pressed down onto his back, Henry’s hand now gripping tight the baby hairs on Richards scalp as he massaged his hardness into Richard’s own. The sudden onslaught of contact, Henry’s chest pressed against him, his warm breath down his neck, the feeling of his hard cock digging through his trousers, was almost too much to bear, and Richard gripped Henry’s shirt cuffs tightly as he kissed him. 

“Henry, so sorry to barge in but I think I’ve left my-” 

For a spare moment Richard watched genuine shock light up in Henry’s dark, cavernous eyes, and it was almost enough of a surprise that he forgot about the immense embarrassment growing at the thought of whoever had just entered their private space. Francais had the decency to look startled for a moment as Henry sighed loudly, not moving from his position bent over Richard. 

“I think I’ve left my composition here,” Francais continued, walking forward to stub out his cigarette as Henry glared his eyes towards him. Pushing himself slightly off from Richard, who was still frozen with both continual arousal and shock from the nonchalance both men were showing within their circumstances. 

“Yes, you did.” Henry said simply, and Francais rolled his eyes at his vagueness. Richard coughed loudly from underneath Henry’s chest, squirming uncomfortably under his weight and heat and Francais seemed to, finally notice his predicament. 

“Oh hello Richard,” He said, rolling the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip in what Richard could only perceive as possible arousal or, at the very least, intrigue, he continued, “I see I’ve caught you at a bad time?” It was the intonation at the end of Francais’ words that caught Richard’s attention away from his embarrassment. It was almost as if he was unsure of what was clearly an uncomfortable arrangement, yet perhaps he was waiting for affirmation from Henry that he wasn’t welcome. Or that he was. 

He was asking permission. 

“No not at all.” Henry moved full off Richard, sitting next to him and eyeing him cautiously as Francais walked further into their secret haven, placing himself delicately on the edge of the armchair across from them. Pushing himself up slightly, Richard leaned towards Henry instinctively as Francais crossed his legs. 

“είναι αυτό εντάξει;” Henry asked carefully, voice drawing out the question as he peered over to Richard. Nodding, Richard didn’t even notice Francais clearly roll his eyes, verbal greek had never been his forte, and he flushed as Henry’s hand laid firmly on his thigh. “Good.” He said, guiding Richard back over his lap, both of his legs stretched out almost to the point of discomfort as he straddled Henry’s broad frame. 

“I’ve always wondered how Richard kissed.” Francais said simply, leaning back in his chair and smiling deviously over top the glass of brandy that had mysteriously ended up in his hand. Richard watched him wordlessly, wetting his lips as Francais winked at him, before Henry’s cool finger were gripping tight into his jaw, kissing him passionately and rougher than before. Just as Richard liked him to. They kissed a moment longer, and Richard couldn’t help but squirm in Henry’s hold. He could feel Francais’s eyes burning a hole through his shirt, and the sound of a zipper lowering just confirmed his thoughts. As much as he wanted to focus his attention solely on Henry, Richard couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the sounds he could hear coming from Francais behind him. A hand skimmed down his back and Richard’s thighs squeezed tightly around Henry’s waist as Francis’ fingers found his chin. 

“Let me have a taste.” Francais said and Richard had never heard his voice so low before, so sensual and smooth. Finally finding his own desire, Richard pressed a hand to Francis’s boney chest and let the other one rest on the low curve of his back as he kissed him. His back ached from how he was twisted, still straddling Henry, in order to meet Francais’ cinnamon and cigarette flavoured mouth but it burned slightly in comparison to the roaring fire between his legs. The overwhelming contact, breathy moans from Henry, himself, and Francais all intertwined in this cavernous carnival of sin. 

“You don’t have to be gentle,” Henry said, on hand moving up Richard’s thigh to squeeze at the meaty underside of his ass, “He likes to be hit.” 

“Henry.” Richard hissed out, face flushing a dark rouge as Francais grinned between kisses. 

“You deny it?” Richard’s lack of response confirmed the hypothesis floating amidst the sweaty air and Francais nipped lightly on his mouth, still testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy. Henry, however, had mapped out his and Richard’s own paths to pleasure eons ago and pushed his hand past Richards trousers and gripped his skin. He yanked Richard’s trousers down and, in a moment, Richard found himself turned over onto his back, once again facing the ceiling. Henry had slid out from beneath him during the confusion, and Richard tilted his gaze up to Francais’ flaming hair and eyes. 

“Oh Richard don’t act so bashful.” Francis said, pressing his finger up against the curving dip of Richard’s collarbones as the latter pushed himself up to sit, halfway perched on his elbows, ignoring the strain it placed on his stomach as he started up at Francis. “However,” His hand slid up Richard’s chest and sat easily on his shoulder, a calm weight before it turned sharp as he pressed the tips of his fingernails into the pilant flesh of Richard’s back, “You do look so darling when you blush.” With that he was kissing him, one hand still digging sharply into his back while the other cupped Richard’s face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, caught up with life and poetry as he always was, and Richard couldn’t help but groan as Francis’ soft, smooth skin pressed over the roughness of his face. 

Only able to place Henry as still in the room by the subtle sound of his breathing, Richard found any inhibition on his part swept away as Francis continued to caress and kiss him. He shimmed his trousers off in between kisses, pausing only to stand and remove them fully and then again to push Richard’s face into his neck, sighing with delight as he bit and scratched along his skin. 

Finally, those long white fingers curled into Richard’s hair and pulled him back from his lips, winking at him before he shoved Richard back down onto the couch, still perched atop him like a wild cat. Francis gleaned over top Richard, shrugging his shirt off as Richard frantacilly followed suit. That lithe, pale body above him enticed Richard so much, he couldn’t help but reach up to smooth his hand over Francis’ porcelain skin. 

He was stopped, however, as Henry appeared suddenly behind him, shirtless as well. Grabbing Richard’s hands, he pushed them back down to the couch, forcing Richard to arch his back up just so that his crotch rubbed directly up against the soft roundness of Francis’ ass. “Keep them there, up against the cushion.” Henry’s skin was moist, reddening a bit at the base of his collarbone as his arousal grew and grew, spurred on as Richard followed his command so effortlessly, Francis’ champagne glass laughter following after. 

“What a good κούκλα you’ve got yourself,” Francis said, spitting unceremoniously onto his hand as he slowly began to finger himself, Richard’s cock laying untouched and flush against his stomach. Richard watched Francis, enamoured, as he slipped another finger into his ass, and whined softly in the back of his throat as his cock bounced against Francis’ stomach as the man atop him squirmed slightly. 

“Jesus Francis,” Richard said, finally finding his voice after staying silent for so long, “You’re incredible, καταπληκτικός.” 

“Look at you, still one upping me even when you’re like this.” With that Francis grinned, sharp toothed and gleaming, and wrapped his hand, still slick with salvia, around the base of Richard’s ignored cock. He tossed his head back, silently thankful for the soft cushions of Henry’s sofa unlike the uncomfortable firmness of his own mattress back in the dorms, and pushed his hips up into Francis’ welcome hand. Laughing softly, Francis’ grin turned to a breathy gasp as Richard’s hips bucked up into his hand, one hand still inside of himself as he worked in time with Richard’s twitching. 

Across the room, Henry slid his hand into his pants, working on his own hardness as Francis gingerly lowered himself onto Richard’s throbbing cock. 

“Fran, christ, please... just,” Richard wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for but Francis seemed to hear him, tossing back his head as he sunk down fully onto Richard’s cock, grinding his ass slightly onto the firmness of Richards crotch. Henry stroked himself in time with Francis’s little bounces a top Richard’s cock while Rich attempted in vain to keep his hand pressed up against the arm of the couch as Henry had demanded. 

It been a while since he’d fucked someone (not that he could really in the sense of the word call what he was doing to Francais fucking) and the feeling of a slick, tight heat around his cock was driving his brain away from any thought of common sense. 

When Henry had first told him about the bacchanal, about that carnal desire to reach beyond humanity and into some sort of divine plane of being, he’d thought Henry was insane. Not for wanting to reach divinity, but for believing they could do so simply through prayer, dedication, and sex. He believed him now and as Richard’s thoughts became more and more clouded by the throaty moans Henry was filling the room with, he could almost see the sardonic smile of Dionysus looking down on him. 

He felt closer to the ancient greeks, and all their aspects, than he ever had before, being rode by the personification of Hermes as Hades watched on, trapped between the thin barrier of life and death keeping him from engaging fully in sin. 

It seemed many borders were being broken today when Henry suddenly stood up, pants discarded as he crossed the room quickly, grasping the back of Francis neck and kissing him deeply. His actions stopped Francis’ rhythmic movements atop Richard and he couldn’t help but arch up, a high pitched whine coming from between clenched teeth. 

“Wanna turn?” Francis said, once Henry released his lips. A thin strand of salvia connected their mouths together for a moment before breaking and falling down to Richard’s chest. His hips bucked up slightly and Henry grinned viciously, hand pressing down on Richard’s lower belly as he kissed Francis once more. Moving backwards, Francis slipped off Richard’s dick with an audible, sigh, stroking his own hardness lazily as he kneeled back on the couch, ass pressed up against the rough abousltry. He stroked himself a few times, head tossed backwards as Henry’s hand slipped around Richard’s neck, pressing up against his back and sliding into his already stretched opening with little resistance. 

It wasn’t often that Richard would be one or advocate for hours of tedious foreplay, but Henry’s cock fucking him instantly after his own left Francais was a euphoria he wasn’t accustomed to. 

As Henry began fucking him in earnest, real true fucking this time unlike the passively dominating sort of sex he and Francis had just engaged in, Francis knelt and thrust his own cock towards Richard’s face. Already panting and more desperate for something even his own subconscious could hardly comprehend, Richard opened his mouth and lapped vigorously at the head of Francis’ gleaming, glistering erection. Both men groaned loudly and Richard could only shudder in response, being so full at each end he thought he might burst. 

He drooled around Francis’ base, trying to focus on anything despite the overwhelming desire to let go and release the euphoria that had been building up inside him, but Henry’s hand on his neck made him wait, trying desperately to keep himself in check. 

Francis, however, did not seem to be adapt to this unspoken submission on Richard’s part, a let out a long a long string of curses as he came, cock twitching as it hit the back of Richard’s throat. He pulled it, grinning as Richard tried and failed to swallow, and he worked his cock through his orgasm as Richard desperately wished for his own. 

“Henry.” He said firmly and the Henry nodded behind him, hand snaking around to grab the front of Richard’s neck and pull him back up against him, back arching up so that Henry could kiss his raw lips as he fucked him. “Henry… fuck please, I’m… I’m gonna…” Richard didn’t even know at this point what he was asking, and he pried one eye open to see Francis fully enthralled in watching them, before Henry was hitting that one spot and he gasped, gripping the arm around his neck. 

“Φίλτατος.” Henry said, clenching his hold on Richard’s neck as they both came, simultaneously. His grip loosening usst enough for Richard to slump forward as Henry pulled out of him, once disconnected Richard turned himself so his bare chest could press up against Henry’s, his heart still beating fast as a bead of sweat dripped down his face as he kissed him again. 

Francis coughed, interrupting them, and winked at Richard as he fished around his pants pocket for a spare cigarette. 

“Well that was surely something,” He said, lighting the cigarette as Henry’s arm rested on Richard’s lower abdomen, pulling him back to lay against him as Francis blew a lazy ring of smoke out, “If Sunday’s are always this adventurous, I think I’ll leave my textbooks here from now on.” 

Richard laughed, blissed out with post-coital calm and the taste of Francis in his mouth and Henry allowed himself a small laugh, reaching for Francis’s cigarette as he said, “Perhaps you should.”

**Author's Note:**

> is this slightly out of character? yes. yes it is. do i care? no. no i do not.   
> Translations: 
> 
> έναν απλούστερο χρόνο (one in the same)   
>  “Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα  
> καὶ Πληιάδες· μέσαι δὲ  
> νύκτες, παρὰ δ᾽ ἔρχετ᾽ ὤρα·  
> ἔγω δὲ μόνα καθεύδω.”   
> (The sinking moon has left the sky,  
> The Pleiades have also gone.  
> Midnight comes—and goes, the hours fly  
> And solitary still, I lie.)
> 
> παραμένεις μόνος σου? (you are alone?)
> 
> μόνο αν φύγετε. (just when you leave) 
> 
> είναι αυτό εντάξει; (is this alright?)   
> Κούκλα (moppet or doll, a sort of meaning term of endearment) 
> 
> Καταπληκτικός (amazing) 
> 
> Φίλτατος (beloved) 
> 
> im sure a lot of these are so-so translations, it’s a mix of modern greek google translate and ancient greek adaptations. if anyone has any serious issues with the translations/corrections, just shoot me a comment.


End file.
